


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - I promise you next life

by Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis (Samstown4077)



Series: Colepaldi Collection [27]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, I don't know what possesed my while writing this, Romance, Suppressed Feelings, Tumblr Prompt, indicated feelings, lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two start to feel something for each other, but know they are not allowed. This is about these kind of troubles. From a tumblr prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - I promise you next life

**Author's Note:**

> So this one is really different and indicates a lot and not only indicates. Just a little warning. It is angst!  
> From a tumblr prompt: Could you do a fic where Jenna has feelings for Peter, but he can't allow himself to feel the same because he feels he should be loyal to his wife who has supported him for so many years??
> 
> English is not my native, sorry for any mistakes, and thanks for reading it anyway.  
> Please do not read if you don't like RPF.

The first time he saw it, it was after a couple of weeks into filming in Cardiff. They were both on the set, waiting. He was sitting in his stool, a coffee by his side, a notepad in his lap and he was sketching some workers by the TARDIS.

Jenna was sitting a couple of meters away, looking at him. Watching him sketching. Nothing unexceptional, she had done that before. People watch him while he draws.

But this time, when he looked up, she was not only looking, she was observing him in some kind of deeper meaning. Actually she was staring. And she was so lost in her thoughts, in her observations, that she hadn't realized that he had stopped and looked back to her.

He sent over a smile and she blushed, shook her head and quickly looked away. Then quickly looked back at him, because she knew that would be even more awkward.

Peter was not sure there, but it was the first time - in retro perspective - he had noticed. The shifting in her behaviour, ever so small, but it probably had started there.

 

The second time they were filming, and it was a scene where they had to be very close to each other. No big deal, they had done that before. For some reason, she had lost her footing and had bumped against his lean figure. He had chuckled, and had asked her if she was okay. Jenna had to grab for his chest to find back to a steady stand, and instead making a cheeky comment, how she usually did, she blushed again, and looked everywhere but him. Flustered.

 

Yes, that was the moment he became aware that Jenna looked differently at him. Almost unnoticeable, but he could see of course. And she could sense, that he could see it, because the relationship they had was what so many craved.

An instant understanding, a connection - a chemistry the press would later title over the newspapers.

They had linked.

 

Peter decided not say something, he didn’t wanted her to feel awkward or bad about the thoughts that rooted through her head.

 

The thoughts, the sweet and painful thoughts. She knew the instant she had watched him sketch, that she was doomed. Because she not only watched him, she observed every fibre of his hands and his jaw line and his eyes jumping between the note pad and the people he drew.

It was one moment she hadn't concentrated. She had allowed her inner self to go for a wander. And it wandered over to the most obvious but worst choice. To Peter. And it had clicked and at first it was just fun for her, laying in her trailer or her apartment remembering the day with him. The little jokes they had made, the little touches they had shared.

After a few days, there was no more fun at all, because the moment she had left the set, she missed him. Not like a friend. And his absence almost hurt.

 

Worst, she could see, he knew.

 

And maybe because he started to notice what was going on inside her, he felt that something inside him started shifting. And that was dangerous. It was like a boat on a long river. Calm and easy it floated with the water. Miles and miles in sunshine and a slight breeze, but the destination was what he was afraid of. There was only one destination, - the falls.

 

He asked himself often, if he only had started to develop these feelings and thoughts because he had sensed it from Jenna or if he would have had started with it by himself. Sometimes he was a bit slow, a bit dense. That there was no answer for this question, he knew.

 

In the end, it didn’t matter, because they were doomed from the start.

Days went by, weeks and month and they did as if nothing was there. They lied to each other, obviously. Instead of moving away from each other, giving each other room to relax, to create a possibility to make the feelings go away, they did exactly the opposite.

They were clinging at each other.

  
Why?

 

Reasonable, they thought they had it in control. Two adults. They could deal with that. They could deal with hugs and cheek kisses. Deal with the closeness. They wanted to proof to each other and to destiny and coincidence that they were stronger than that. Stronger than clichés and stuff.

 

He was 56 and she was almost 30. People expect you have everything in control at these ages. Aside, that this is a lie, they hadn’t anything in control.

 

They found one another stare at each other. They found each other sharing little touches while filming. A brush against an arm. A soft stroke of a finger against a palm. A hug, a fraction of a second too long. Leaning toward each other in the dark of the TARDIS.

 

And when the World Tour came, it was like someone had came up with the final chapter of an experiment that only could end in a disaster.

 

The lack of sleep, the busy days and all the impressions made them both more vulnerable. Nobody saw that. Only in the evening, when he had developed a habit of coming to her room, for a drink or a tea, for a talk about the day, he was without any protection.

 

Sometimes they found each other, after a good joke, catching their breath and then sitting in silence for a few moments, because there was something heavy lingering over them in the room.

They shared glances, having _‘what ifs’_ and _‘what could’_ in their heads.

 

 _‘Don’t look at me like this,’_ she always thought. “It’s late.”

 

Or he said, “I think it’s time for bed,” and cursed himself for a harmless sentence he now found ridiculous double meanings in it. Almost stumbled _“I mean I go to my bed and you to yours.”_ Almost.

 

On one of the last days, they both couldn’t bare it anymore. Standing in front of each other, so very close, the heat of each other burning against them, when she gave him the tea, he almost forgot reality.

 

“I … I can’t,” he simply said. _I can’t reciprocate your feelings. I crave it, like you, but I can’t and you know why._

 

“I know,” was the only thing she was able to say. _Yet, I can’t bury my feelings, I can’t do anything against it, what do you expect?_

 

There was a long silence, filled with questions and frustration. There was no going forward, though there was no going back.

 

Several times he intended to say something, but he only looked like a fish and Jenna needed to smile about it for a bit. It made him smile too. He touched his chest, his fingers tracing along his collar bones, slightly drumming.

 

“I never should have-,” Jenna started without knowing how to end it.

 

Peter hushed her down, raising a hand. “Shh!” he bowed slightly. “Never excuse for it. It’s your heart, you don’t excuse for your heart.”

 

Then spilling out the words, that came across his mind. “I promise you… next life,” it hurt, “and that is the only thing I can promise.”

 

He pulled her into a hug, her head resting against his chest, his heartbeat in her ear. There was no Doctor, no two hearts - only one. Occupied. So was hers.

 

Next life. What an awful lot of time till there.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it or not - if so ---> Kudos? ---> Comment?  
> If you like Colepaldi, I publish on regular basis and take prompts.


End file.
